


and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Wilson/Chase, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Menstruation, Mental Health Issues, No Malicious Transphobia, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Trans James Wilson, Trans Robert Chase, Work In Progress, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Chase wants to carry House's baby.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, Robert Chase/Greg House, Robert Chase/Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven

**Author's Note:**

> title from richard siken's _saying your names_.
> 
> is this a spitefic because of seeing mpreg in the tag? maybe. 
> 
> i've no idea how long this fic will be.
> 
> enjoy!!

Chase has been in a relationship with House for three years now. 

It's ridiculous, to be dating Gregory House. Especially when he's dating Wilson as well. He doesn't know the guy too well, but sometimes they go on group dates— he's funny and ridiculously kind, and he still doesn't understand how on Earth they managed to end up committed to each other. As much as House repeats the story of the shot glass and Billy Joel's _Leave a Tender Moment Alone_ and bailing Wilson out of jail, he's still looking for something there, in between the lines. He hasn't quite found it yet.

Dating House comes with many privileges, especially as his employee. He's left off the hook for things he'd fire Cameron or Foreman over; he sometimes skimps out of doing tests in favor of workplace sex, which Cuddy has nearly murdered them over five times now. They're getting better at not getting caught. But something that nags at him, a constant reminder, is what he hasn't been able to quite _talk_ to him about.

He's figured out communicating with House. He's figured out how to tell him things, when to accept his deflections and when to challenge them. House loves puzzles, and he himself is a puzzle he's learned to solve. But he has _no damn clue_ how to talk to him about his interest in starting a family. The mere thought is laughable, like House is going to roll his eyes and mutter about how he needs to come up with better pranks. House is not a family man, by any means, but Chase doesn't think he particularly hates children either— he's a misanthropic guy, but he treats children decently, and seems to care for them. If running to a patient's room, ditching his cane, after he realizes the baby isn't in its crib is any indicator of care, that is.

He decides to talk about it with Wilson first. Wilson is the sole holder of all the House knowledge in the world, a Housian encyclopedia of sorts. He's amazed by how many details about House's life he can spring up at the drop of a hat. When he told him that House had been a lacrosse cheerleader during college he felt like his insides were quickly decomposing.

He skips out on work, getting a nasty look from Foreman, as he heads right up to Wilson's office. He lets out a sigh, considers his options. Should he even be bothering him about this? After a few minutes of debating it with himself he swallows the last scraps of dignity he has left and knocks on Wilson's door. He fiddles with his lab coat for a few seconds before Wilson opens the door.

"Hey, Chase, what're you doing here?" he asks, all while stepping back to allow him in. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yeah, but you know House will let me off the hook," he replies with a small, forced laugh. He swallows. "I, uh, need to talk to you about something. Rather, I need to talk to House about something but I need to talk to you to see if I should bring it up at all or how to do so first."

Wilson looks at him, and worry covers his factions. He swallows and nods, pointing vaguely at the couch. Chase makes a beeline toward it and Wilson closes the door.

"So, what's up?"

Chase settles down on the couch, patients usually sitting there, but now it's just him. He swallows and fiddles with his lab coat's buttons. How does he say it? He should just say it, right? He should just let it out and say it point blank. He's only causing more problems by delaying what he wants to say. "I want House to get me pregnant," he tells him, looking intently at the floor. "I want us to raise a kid together."

A moment of silence swallows them both, and Chase resists the urge to cringe or to look up to see Wilson's expression. He remains stock-still, staring at the floor until something comes out of Wilson's mouth.

"Funny that you're worried about that," he says. 

"Huh?" That manages to make him look up. Wilson is smiling. "What— what do you mean?"

A pause. Wilson tilts his head. "House was trying to get Stacy pregnant when, uh, right before everything happened." A pause. "He kind of convinced himself the opportunity of having a legacy beyond _asshole doctor_ was gone when Stacy was gone. I had already had a hysterectomy by when we got together, otherwise I would've gladly helped him along." He huffs "He's awfully specific, too, he really hates the idea of a surrogate or adopting. I guess he likes the idea of doting on a pregnant partner, or the idea of the kid being completely _theirs_. Either way, I've offered that and he's always said no."

Chase swallows, stares at him. "You're telling me that... House _actively_ wanted and wants a kid."

"Yes, I am. People usually don't guess he wants a kid because, you know, he's House, but he clearly has a soft spot for kids if you look at him for long. Especially babies."

Chase thinks again about House dropping his cane and rushing toward the patient's room, desperately looking to save her kid from their own mother. His mouth dries and his heart thumps at the idea of House actively _accepting_ his idea of having a kid with him.

"Are you fucking with me?"

"No," Wilson says. "Please, I know you must've seen interact with kids before. He's far gentler with them than with anyone else. If you tell him this, he'll be charmed and excited and loving. I know him enough to know that he still dreams of being a father."

Chase looks away and nods. "That... that's a huge relief to hear, James. Thank you so much."

"It's no problem," Wilson says, smiling at him. "I hope it works out and that he's eager to follow through. I know he will be but, you know, maybe he isn't ready. Maybe he has a minor freak-out." There's a pause. "I have, um, a patient coming in in a few minutes. I don't mean to kick you out or anything, but—"

"No, I get it, I get it," Chase replies immediately. He leans in for a hug and Wilson is quick to reply in kind, pulling him into a bone-crushing one, one of those strong armed ones that make him feel fuzzy inside. House isn't good at hugging, but he understand that everyone shows affection differently. "We all have jobs. It's... ridiculous to pretend we don't. I'll get going."

"Of course," Wilson says, pulling away slightly. "When do you plan to talk to him about it?"

"Uh." He's not quite sure. "Perhaps on the weekend, when we're more well-rested, so he's not... you know, stressed out after saving someone's life, or whatever."

"I don't think House gets very stressed out about patient's lives," Wilson points out.

"Except when they're babies."

Wilson snorts. "Except when they're babies," he echoes. "But good luck with that. Tell me how it goes afterward."

He nods. "Of course."

* * *

It takes him until Sunday for him to have the guts to bring it up. They had lazy morning sex and House is making breakfast— it's a spread secret that House knows how to cook, and matter of fact is that he knows how to cook _good_. As much as he's lived in his own for most of his life, Chase has never learned much about cooking, not having a natural talent for it. So as it goes, he's spent most of his life living off either shitty homemade meals or slightly better TV dinners.

"House," he starts. He tries to focus his energy on what Wilson told him. That House _does_ want a family, that he won't laugh it off and find something else to focus on, change the topic, deflect. If anything is going to happen is that House is going to be in disbelief that Chase wants a family with _him_ — Wilson had told him that over text, explaining how his main worry was that House had a whole slew of self-worth issues that might affect this conversation. But he does too, so it's fine. It's just fine. "I need to, uh, talk to you about something."

House flips the egg he's frying and turns to face him, tilting his head. "Something wrong?"

"No," he replies. "Everything's, um, perfect, actually, but I want to talk to you about this thing and Wilson reassured me that it'd be okay, but I'm still a little worried." He swallows. "So, uh, maybe when you're done making breakfast I can go on about it."

House turns back to the egg. "Sure," he replies. The next few minutes feel like torture as Chase stares at him cooking. Eventually there's their platters on the table, fried eggs and sausage, yogurt on Chase's side that he always half-heartedly eats because House wants him to. Something about health benefits— he knows House doesn't care that much, but he's not sure how to ask if that's a little joke he's doing, some comedy bit he doesn't understand.

"So?" House says as he cuts up his sausage. "Spill the beans."

Chase stares at his own egg. It feels like he's going to die if he beats around the bush. "I want to have a kid," he says. "Biologically. With me carrying it."

He looks up a little just to see the way House's grip on his knife wobbles, how he nearly drops it. 

"You want me to knock you up?" he asks, his voice forcibly neutral. He keeps cutting.

"Yes," he says, voice awfully small. "Wilson told me you wanted to have a kid with Stacy, so I thought—"

"I told him that in _confidence_ ," he groans. "He's such a tattler." There's a long pause, and Chase manages to look at House. His face is drained of most color and he looks... excited, almost? If he had to pin down how he looks it's _curious_ , like he's waiting for an adventure, something big. Which he guesses is what pregnancy is. "Are you serious?"

Oh, there we go, Chase thinks. Wilson had it right on the nose. He lets out a breath and nods eagerly. "Yes, I'm serious. I've always thought about raising a kid, about raising them.... _better_ than my parents did, you know." He coughs lightly. "So I... I don't know. I thought that, um, getting pregnant wouldn't be too bad, either."

"What about your dysphoria?" he asks next, taking a bite of his sausage.

"Uh." He swallows. "I think my dysphoria will be fine, actually. I don't really — my dysphoria is nonexistent lately because, you know, I've gone through all the procedures I want, which is just hormones. I had thought about hysterectomy but hadn't gone through with it. If anything is going to cause me dysphoria is the doctor visits rather than, uh, my body changing to be more... _apt_ for pregnancy."

House looks at him and he smiles. "Well, I can always whack any doctor who misgenders you with my cane."

That's all the reassurance Chase needs that this will turn out alright. He stands and leans over the table to kiss House on the lips. "Okay," he says softly. "So... yeah. I'll talk with my doctor about, uh, about stopping testosterone, and then everything can fall into place." A small pause. "I'm not saying you're not fit for taking care of a kid, but, uh... I think you should like, go to therapy before we start trying to get me pregnant." At House's indignant look, he tries to explain— "I just! I know you also have a lot of parental issues and a lot of issues in general and it'll probably help to try and deal with those feelings in a medical setting. I know that you have a hard time with opening up, babe, but. Please?"

House rolls his eyes slightly, pecks him on the lips. "You could've just guilted me with saying something about how you didn't want me to turn out just like my dad, you know?"

"I wouldn't ever say that!" Chase exclaims. "I wouldn't— House, you're nothing like your dad." He says this with a certain degree of insistency, like he's terrified of House actually thinking that about himself.

(It's not like House has ever _told_ him what happened with his dad, except for oblique references and a vague yet strong distaste whenever the topic of fathers comes up. Each and every interaction with their patients' fathers left that impression deep in Chase's psyche— House's dad was a horrible person. He could just feel it, deep inside him, like a sensor of traumas similar to his own. House's dad didn't abandon him, though. He still doesn't ask; he knows prying only makes House shut off more.)

House looks sad, for a moment, and he looks away before going right back to looking at him with a small smile, like nothing ever happened. Like a switch going off. He pulls him into another kiss. "I know," he says, all too soft. "I know. I'll... try and do therapy. No promises."

Chase finally stands and goes around the table to grab his shoulder, look at him intensely. House raises a brow at the motion. "House," he says again. "Promise me you'll try to go and do therapy."

"You're hot when you're pressed about something," House tries to deflect.

"House," he insists.

He sighs. "Fine." He sobers up a little. "I promise you I'll go to therapy and that I'll be cooperative."

Chase smiles and pulls him into another kiss. "Okay. Good."

"Your egg's getting cold," he tells him, trying to swerve everything right back to normal. "Go eat it."

Chase nods. "Of course."


End file.
